


The Stronger Will

by rosamynal



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Begging, Biting, Blood, F/M, Flowers, Hair Braiding, Hair-pulling, M/M, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other, POV Second Person, Praise Kink, Tail Sex, Transformation, Two Minds One Body, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:53:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22262140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosamynal/pseuds/rosamynal
Summary: You chase Zenos yae Galvus to the Royal Menagerie.What follows is unexpected.
Relationships: Zenos yae Galvus/Reader
Comments: 85
Kudos: 140





	1. Beg

When he retreats to the Menagerie, you follow the Garlean Prince to find him with his back to you, slowly undoing the straps and buckles of his armor. Each piece falls to the ground with a clatter, revealing more and more of the tight, black bodysuit he wears beneath it that clings to each defined muscle of the man's body.

He only faces you when the last bit of armor falls into the heap at his feet. A lazy lean and he fetches the sash from the discarded armor so he can tie it at his waist, accentuating the protrusion just below it. He flips his hair over his shoulder as he fixes you with his steeled gaze.

He steps forward. Slowly but surely he approaches, long legs bringing him closer with each step. Your eyes drift down from his, savoring the rise and fall of each muscle on his chest, ignoring the fact that this man just tried to kill you. Your gaze finally reaches his waist and you gauge his size. Of _course_ he's proportional. You involuntarily lick your lips as you wonder how much of it you can take—if any at all.

Zenos stops a certain distance away from you and begins to circle you, the sash at his waist idly bobbing with each step along with his golden hair. His pale blue eyes sweep over you. An eyebrow arcs as he follows your form back up. You turn to keep him in sight, but he hisses. You freeze at the sudden sound as he continues his route.

He speaks once he's behind you. His smooth voice rolls over you, seizing your belly and crushing your lungs.

"Would you join me if I gave you the choice?"

You hesitantly swallow past the tight knot in your throat and nod. The prince barks out a harsh laugh and you hear him resume his course. 

"And we would put the past behind us? Everything we have done. Everything we have _fought_ for, thrown to the wayside because I asked and you agreed? I think not, my friend."

Just as he completes his circuit, he darts forward. One hand seizes your neck and forces your chin up while the other grabs your belt. His erection rubs against you as the tips of his fingers dig into your neck.

"Shall we see whose will is stronger?" Zenos purrs.

Acting on instinct, you reach out and touch his erection. The Garlean's jaw clenches and his hold on your neck tightens. Your vision wavers, but you grab on to him with both hands. He groans through his teeth and leans into your touch before forcing you to the ground.

The prince forces your arms over your head. He holds them there with one hand while the other undoes the sash at his waist. He takes a shuddering breath as he binds your wrists. Tightly gripping your arms, he uses his free hand to rip the armor from your body. You cry out at the pain, but his cock twitches against you. His lips crash against yours as he devours you.

Having torn even your small clothes from your frame, you feel the breeze caress your bare skin. Your hands twitch in his grasp as he finally lifts his head from the kiss. His chest heaves with shallow breaths as he stares upwards, arching into you, pressing his cock between your legs. On impulse, you lunge forward and bite his bared neck.

He _moans_. You feel a growing moist spot between you as he instinctively bucks his hips. His hand releases your arms in favor of holding your head against his neck. 

"Again," he commands, voice trembling but rough. 

You do as he bids. Moving closer to the bump in his neck. He purrs at the feeling. A glance shows his eyes are half-lidded. They drift down to you. 

" _Harder_ my friend."

The order sends a rush through you. You bury your teeth in the soft skin of his neck, drawing a low cry from the man. He clutches your head in place, urging you to bite even harder as his erect cock twitches between you. Emboldened by his reaction, strength surges through you.

Your arms break free of the sash binding them, tearing it to shreds. Zenos moans as you grip his skintight bodysuit and fling him onto his back, revealing the dampened fabric clinging to his erection. His lips remain parted in a lusty smirk as you straddle him.

You lean forward to grab a handful of his silky hair. A yank makes him moan. His hands reach for yours, but you bat them away. It only serves to make him squirm beneath you. Doubting your ability to take him, you instead slip him out of his restraining pants and bring his hand to his cock. Your heart skips as you see him easily grip it. Your fingers circle what they can of his girth. Slowly, you begin stroking his length, coaxing him to follow your pace.

After the first few strokes, he impatiently bucks into your hand. You yank on his hair in punishment, drawing a whine from his throat. You feel his muscles twitch in anticipation as you continue massaging his length and guiding his hand up and down his cock. His free hand reaches up and squeezes one of your ass cheeks. You sharply tug on his hair again and he groans, eyes rolling back in his head.

You release his hair to wrap both hands around his cock and _squeeze_. His face contorts as his hips snap upwards into your grip, searching for any friction that might finish him. Instead, you release and lean back, resting your hands on the legs spread out behind you.

He tenses between your legs. His eyes widen as his head snaps up to stare at you. In your peripheral, you see him tighten his hold on his cock. Before he can finish himself, you grab his wrist and hold him still. When you lock gazes, you smirk at the helpless look in the prince's eyes.

You guide his hand to the ground beside his hip and press it into place. He flattens it, palm down and fingers clutch the masonry. You glance at his other hand. It does the same with your silent prompting. His breaths grow shallow once again as he clenches his jaw. Pale blue eyes narrow as they watch you.

You shift backwards to sit on your knees between his spread legs. Slowly, you drag your hands along the inner seam of his bodysuit. His leg muscles twitch, threatening to fold themselves around you, but you stop and press your hands against them until he stills. You resume your course until they meet in the middle. You press one hand into his balls. He squirms, thrusting his hips into the air and arching his back. You dig the nails of your other hand into his inner thigh. 

He cries out.

You press harder. 

At first, it feels as if the prince is trying to wriggle out from under your grip, but then you notice his fingers gripping the masonry with enough strength to crack the bricks. Heat seizes you at the thought that despite all his strength, the prince is melting under your touch.

He squirms into your touch with a whine. You squeeze. He gasps and releases the breath as a deep moan. Zenos suddenly rolls up into a sitting position, golden hair falling on either side of his flushed face. His knees bend around you as he leans forward far enough to kiss you. 

"E-enough," he stammers. "Finish me."

You smile, taking in the sight of the red-faced and sweating prince.

You wrench his head to one side and lunge forward, burying your teeth into the side of his neck. He cries out. His arms instinctively hug you to him as he falls backwards. You break his hold and pin his arms over his head as you sit on his chest with a grin. Your nails dig into his forearms and you roll your hips. A lusty groan leaves his throat as you hear his feet scrabble on the ground behind you.

"Please," he hisses. 

He tries to lift his arms, but you force them back down. He shudders and writhes beneath you. 

"M-my _friend_ ," he moans. "Please."

The deep, rough sound ignites you once again. You lean forward and nip at his neck. Each bite leaves a mark. The bump in his neck bobs as he swallows and lifts his chin, granting you access to the softer areas. Your nips turn into bites that leave deeper and darker marks. Some are quickly tinged with telltale blues and purples, all the more stark against his pale skin.

You finally release his arms to cup his face in your hands. You bite his lip hard enough to draw blood. You slowly drag your tongue over it, licking up the coppery droplet. His eyes nearly close as he groans into your mouth.

" _Please_."

You nod at the sibilant hiss. One hand immediately flies to his aching cock. The other holds your head in place for a deep kiss. His breaths turn shallow and uneven as he pumps himself. He grunts into your mouth. You bite his lip. He cries out.

He falls back with a drunk smile. His breathing slowly returns to its even inhale and exhale. Pale blue eyes study you from beneath heavy eyelids. You turn in place to observe your armor scattered around the two of you and the soiled mess he made in his lap. 

A deceitfully light touch draws your attention to his finger tracing a line from your knee to your waist. You glance downwards to find his eyes have changed to a familiar red pattern on black.


	2. Sing

You start at the sudden change in Zenos' eyes and scramble off his chest. His hand snatches your wrist as he smirks, strange eyes focusing on you.

"How thoughtless of me not to take  _ your _ pleasure into account," he purrs, slowly pulling you back into his embrace. "Permit me to fix that, my friend."

He kisses you deeply and lays you on the ground. The soft pad of one long finger toys with your nipple, already hardened from the exposure to the cool air. A sharp nip to your neck makes your muscles seize up as his teeth dig into your skin. 

You try to push him away, but your previous strength deserts you, abandoning you to his devices. Zenos’ thumb joins the finger on your nipple for a sudden pinch and  _ tweak _ that makes you cry out. His teeth ease up on your neck only to suddenly bite down harder than before. Tears spring to your eyes at the pain, only for you to moan as he rolls his larger hips against yours. To your surprise, he is already impossibly hard once again.

His saliva slicks your neck as he quietly chuckles. Relief floods the area when Zenos finally releases his hold on you and slowly stands up. He walks away as you sit up, clapping a hand to where he had bitten you. A glance shows blood mixing with the saliva he had left behind. 

The slow, drawn out metallic screech of a sword leaving its sheath pierces the silence. 

“You have not mastered your abilities, have you, my friend?”

Confused by the question, you turn to find Zenos has peeled off the top half of his body suit. In his right hand, he holds his red-bladed sword while his left idly strokes his cock. His eyes narrow as they dart from the caged primal to look at you. They slide up beneath his eyelids while he moans through his teeth.

“I gladly concede the first round to you,” he says, voice growing rough. “But what would you say to a second? I could show you the boundless potential of the gift you so ungratefully squander.”

A deepthroated chuckle freezes you in place before you can respond, leaving you to stare at the prince. With inhuman speed, Zenos slashes upwards. A beam of red energy follows the arc of the blade, slicing through the cage holding the primal in place.

The sword clatters to the ground as he raises both arms up as if to greet the dragon-like creature. Bright red energy surrounds the pair. 

They roar.

Red energy gives way to a bright green. It races from Zenos to the primal, piercing it. Pained cries rip from its maw as it writhes, until a final wave of energy makes it explode into shimmering particles of red and green.

They rain down on Zenos, who tilts his head back with a drunken smile. The particles vanish into him, drawing a guttural moan from the prince. A softer moan falls from his lips as a silvery-blue pattern appears on his back and shoulders. They almost remind you of scales. 

He turns to face you, one hand slowly stroking his cock. The pattern spreads down his arms and darkens as he approaches you. The closer he gets, the more you realize they resemble those of the primal. 

His eyes have turned red again. They bore into you with the intensity of the midday sun. They sweep up and down your naked form while a smile spreads across his face. You reflexively squirm where you sit as you wonder what the prince plans to do. 

It doesn’t take long to find out. 

The giant of a man pounces. One hand pins you to the ground by your shoulder. The other slips between you to stroke your needy sex. When the scales reach the back of his hands, he puts them to good use, adding texture to the friction below your waist. His breaths grow shallow as your pleasure mounts and his hand quickens its pace. He  _ grins _ , baring a mouthful of sharp teeth.

His hand slows and stops just shy of your release. A keening whine rises in your throat. You squirm, seeking his hand and its stimulation,  _ anything _ to send you over the edge you’re teetering on.

He leans forward, looming over you. A sharp edge traces a line from your shoulder to your collarbone. You catch a glimpse of the sharp claws adorning his fingers and moan at the thought of what the prince could do with them.

“Beg,” he growls.

You pant his name. He shivers at the sound of it.

"Again."

His name leaves your lips in a moan. His cock twitches against you as he rubs it into your thigh. You feel spikes grow at his base and lean in to him, whimpering his name. Zenos rewards you with a stroke. He leans over to croon in your ear, his long, golden hair cascading around the two of you.

" _ Sing _ for me, my friend."

You quickly catch on that each time you say his name, he strokes you. Through your growing haze, however, you also notice his face slowly turning red and feel his initially even pace grow more and more erratic every time you say his name. You smile at the thought of him coming undone through that alone. He grits his teeth as you hiss out his name. 

He lets out a long, drawn out moan. The spikes at the base of his cock flare up at the same time something prods at your ass cheeks. 

Zenos plants his free hand by your head and leans in for a deep kiss at the same time the hand below your waist grows still. You whine into his mouth as the hand withdraws. You lift your hips off the ground in search of him. His hand slips under the small of your back for support while the tip of whatever had been exploring your backside suddenly inserts itself. 

You gasp at the sensation and arch your back, pressing your hips into the prince. He growls in satisfaction as it withdraws before delving deeper. You feel the ridges along its length rub against the opening of your hole upon reentry and cry out his name.

He sweeps you into his arms and flips you around to press your back into his chest as he stands up with his legs spread wide. The feeling of the ridged thing twisting within forces a guttural moan from you and makes tears well up in your eyes. One arm holds you to his chest, the small scales scrape your already hard and sensitive nipples. The other lowers, following the curve of one of your legs to the back of your knee and lifts it. 

Your hands grope for something to ground yourself. One clings to the scales at his hip while the other slips between you, following the soft skin covering his abs. You glance down to see the thing inside you is long, tapered, and covered in the same scales as the rest of him. 

It slowly pulls out of you and you realize it to be a tail. The tip lifts to flick your inner thigh. You gasp at the shock and initial pain only to  _ moan _ when he rubs the length of it against your thigh, drawing it closer and closer to your sex. You writhe in his hold. The hand you slipped between your bodies slips down, finding his cock. 

Turgid as it is, you can hold even less of it now, but you begin pumping it all the same. He tenses. Part of your name flies past his lips before he clamps them shut with a growl. 

The tip of his tail plunges back into you, but you were ready. You release his cock and grab on to his thighs with both hands, using it as leverage to help arch into him. You moan his name as he delves deeper and deeper.

He twitches against your back. The hand holding your leg up digs its claws into your flesh, drawing rivulets of blood that flow down your thigh and his forearm. Your lips twist into a grin as he thrusts against your back hard enough for the spikes on his cock to nick your skin.

Pain erupts from your neck when Zenos suddenly bites you. At the same time, he thrusts his tail into you as far as it can go. You scream his name at the combined pain just as you feel him buck his hips into your back. Moisture spreads between the two of you and you realize what you accomplished. You moan his name one last time as you find your own release.

He sinks down to his knees and drags you down with him as he lays back. His tail slides out of you, only to hesitantly wrap around your leg. A pair of silver wings with gold membranes curl up around both of you as you feel him shudder. You turn in his grasp to discover that a pair of horns were sprouting from his head. Recognizing the features from the primal, you stare at him in shock. 

Zenos studies you with a lazy sweep of his red and black eyes. He closes them and takes a deep breath which he exhales through his nose. The primal’s features vanish, leaving him practically naked beneath you. 

You reach up and tenderly trace the ridge of his nose down to the tip. He lifts his head and tucks his chin into his chest so your finger retraces the path to stop at the bridge. He slowly opens his pale blue eyes and watches you. You raise an eyebrow at the strange emotion you see lurking in their depths. An idea occurs to you and you state it without hesitation. 

His eyes widen as he repeats your question back to you.

“You would ask  _ me _ to join  _ you _ ?”

You nod. 

He stares, mouth agape. It slowly moves in silence for a moment before he utters a single word.

“ _ Why _ ?”

You consider the question. You crawl up so your faces are even and you kiss him. He hums into your mouth as his arms encircle you. 

“A decent argument,” he murmurs. “You would have me abandon my position as Garlemald’s Crown Prince for what? For you? You would have to do better than  _ that _ my friend.”

You scowl at the response. You grab a fistful of his hair and  _ tug _ , drawing a deepthroated yell from him. You lean forward and hiss a response into his ear. 

His eyes widen before his eyelids droop and he shudders beneath you.

“If you swear that to me, I would follow you to the ends of this star, my friend,” he purrs.

You grin and kiss him again, biting his lower lip. The action teases a moan out of him. 

“What of your allies?” he asks, eyes closing as you kiss a trail down his chin and up the underside of his jaw. “They would not accept my presence so readily.”

You run your nails down his bare chest, leaving a red trail behind each finger. At the same time, you suckle at his neck. He shudders and moans your name. Your heart races at the sound.

Footsteps and raised voices alert both of you to said allies’ arrival. He gives a reluctant whine as he slides out from beneath you. 

“If I am to surrender myself to the mercy of you and your compatriots, I would do so fully clothed,” he confesses. “Come, I know another way out of this menagerie. We will negotiate the terms of my surrender while we bathe and find something for each of us to wear.”

He walks to a doorway some fulms down, bare feet slapping against the stone tiles as he moves. You smile, admiring the curve of his shoulders, the way his hair caught the sun’s rays, and the lines guiding your eyes to his waist and—

Zenos stops and turns to face you, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“Are you not coming, my friend? Do not tell me you are having second thoughts.”

You shake your head and hurry after him.


	3. Collar

You find Zenos lounging in the bath, long hair braided and twisted onto his head to keep it from getting wet. He opens a single eye when he hears you step into the doorway. He soon focuses both on you when he notices the collar in your hand.

"Are you planning to present me to your allies as your tamed war hound?"

The offhand question makes you smirk. You twirl the closed collar around your finger as you cross the mosaicked floor to the lip of the sunken bath. He tilts his head back to look up at you with one raised eyebrow. A slow smile tugs at his lips.

“Or are you thinking of something else?”

You crook your finger, silently calling the Garlean to you. Ripples disturb the surface of the water, making the rose petals floating on it bob like ships on the ocean. He lifts his chin to keep his eyes on you. 

Without warning, you undo the collar only to tie it around his neck. Your reward is a quiet gasp and a shudder from Zenos. His hands clutch the edge of the bath before he partially pulls himself out of the water to steal a kiss. You slip your finger into the collar and tug downwards, forcing him back into the bath. He bares his teeth in a grin as you crouch to tighten it.

"So you  _ do _ plan to break me," he purrs, gasping when you cinch it too tight. Still, he manages to choke out another strained question. "Shall you embroider 'Zenos Galvus' on it, or simply 'Hound'?"

You smirk and watch a blush spread across the man’s cheeks at your continued silence. He clears his throat with a cough before delicately exploring the collar around his neck with his fingertips. 

It’s nothing more than a simple, black leather choker, albeit soft to the touch. The accessory is slim enough to be easily hidden beneath the high collar of the coat he had set out on his bed. He swallows heavily and his neck bulges against the strip of fabric. His fingers trail to the clasp at the back. For a moment, you think he’s about to remove it, but then his hands drop to the lip of the bath. 

His pale blue eyes sweep over you as your smirk widens into a smile. You reach out to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. He leans into your touch with partially lidded eyes. They fully close when you grasp his chin and pull it upwards for a chaste kiss. He tenses at first, but eventually relaxes until you feel him smile against your lips.

Zenos stands up, rising out of the water. Rivulets trace the lines of his muscular body before rejoining with the water below him. He steps out and drapes a crimson robe made of silk over his wet form. It clings to him, hiding nothing and emphasizing every ilm of his body.

You stick your hand out before he can close the front. Seemingly understanding your desire, he lets it hang open and walks into his bedroom. Hips swaying with each step, he walks over to the vanity, sits down, and lets down his hair so he can brush it. 

A hand comes up to the collar on his neck after passing the brush through his hair a few times. He clears his throat again and manages to slip one of his fingers between the leather and his skin. Sliding his finger back and forth, he succeeds in adjusting where it sits on his neck. He lifts his chin to better examine his new accessory. 

You approach just as he rubs it with the tips of his fingers. As you take the abandoned brush and begin passing it through his silken hair, you apologize for not having truly given him an option. He hums lazily and shrugs his broad shoulders.

“At least you have the courtesy of giving me a  _ physical _ representation of it—something my Father never did. Besides, much as I loathe to admit it aloud, you were the victor of our little battle of wills.” He quietly chuckles. “The hunter fell to his beast and has become one himself. I can already hear the scandalized whispers of that useless Court in Garlemald.” 

He leans back in his seat as you continue grooming him. Zenos shuts his pale eyes and tilts his head back, granting you more slack to work with. You study his peaceful—almost angelic—face, etching each straight line and curve into your memory. When you finish brushing his hair, you gather it into a loose ponytail. He raises his eyebrows at the sensation and opens one eye to look at you via the mirror. Before he can speak, you grasp the ponytail and give it a sharp tug. 

Both of his eyes flutter open only to roll into his skull. His nipples harden, clearly showing through the damp silk of his robe. He hums in pleasure while his dick seems to twitch in response.

“Careful, my friend,” he purrs. “Your allies are bound to finally think they should check the old royal chambers. They should be arriving any moment now. Would you  _ truly _ wish for them to find us in a compromising position?”

The question makes you smirk. What better way for the others to understand what part Zenos will play from now on?

With one fluid motion, you step forward and swing your leg over the seated Garlean to straddle his lap. You tug and twist the ponytail, bringing it over his shoulder at the same time that you kiss him deeply. He moans into your mouth as his hands immediately come up to roam your clothed body. You lean into him until your chests are flush together, skin pressing against cloth, while your free hand cups the side of his face. His hands travel to your back, holding you in place. When both of you break for air, he smiles.

“As you wish, my friend,” he pants before pulling you in for another kiss.

The bedroom door bursts open a moment later. Two surprised cries precede an enraged roar. Before you can even look at the door, Zenos leaps out of the chair with you in his arms, just in time to dodge the sword that cleaves it in half. He turns to face the others, giving you a chance to see Raubahn behind the broken chair, glaring venomously at Zenos. By the door, you find Lyse and Alphinaud. The pair are staring at the Garlean and quickly turning a shade to match the woman’s dress.

You tug on the ponytail still in your hand and squirm to get out of Zenos’ hold. The Garlean grunts in reluctance and gently places you on the ground. His arms, however, wrap around you from behind to keep you close. He addresses the others before you can even begin to wonder what to say.

“As your vaunted Warrior can attest, I have agreed to surrender. We have negotiated some terms, which include withdrawing troops from Gyr Abania and Othard. For your safety, the Warrior has also decided it best that I remain in their custody. Other terms shall be decided when the leaders of your little savage Alliance are together.”

You manage to keep the surprise from your face. It was the first you had heard of those supposedly negotiated conditions. 

“That’s one way to put it,” Alphinaud murmurs, finally averting his eyes from both of you. “Tell us, friend. Is what he says true?”

You confirm what Zenos said, adding that when you defeated the Garlean in combat, he agreed to surrender. Lyse shakes her head and takes a step forward as if she would charge the Garlean. Instead, she remained in place with her hands balled into fists.

“We’ll bring him to trial,” she announces. “He has to pay for everything he’s done.”

Zenos sighs heavily. When he speaks, his voice has lost all amusement, making him sound bored.

“To think we were defeated by savages such as yourselves. My great-grandfather must be rolling in his grave at our ineptitude. Would you really execute me instead of putting my knowledge of your enemy to use?”

“And you expect us to believe you would give it  _ freely _ ?” Raubahn spat. “You could just as easily lie and lead us to a trap.”

“I could,” he concedes. “If I wished to kill your leaders, however, I could just as easily and more satisfyingly do so with my own two hands rather than bother with something as drawn out and impersonal as feeding you misinformation to lead you into a trap.”

“I think the more important thing to consider at the moment is that our enemy has surrendered,” Alphinaud adds, still studying the door frame. “Since our friend seems to have everything in hand, let us gather the others and tell them the good news. We shall wait for both of you outside the palace gate.”

You thank Alphinaud and watch him pull Lyse out of the room. Raubahn does not move from his place by the broken chair. Zenos sighs again and fixes his attention on the glaring Ala Mhigan.

“I believe your short friend meant you as well, General; unless you would  _ like _ to see me get dressed.”

Raubahn scowls and nods at you.

“Come along. His Highness needs to learn how to dress on his own.”

Zenos tightens his hold on you. His voice is a low growl when he speaks.

“You would give orders to your  _ superior _ ? They are not your dog to order about as you please.”

The sound of him defending you lights a fresh fire in your gut. Your hands come up to grasp his arms crossing over your chest.

“Apart from that,” he continues, “you truly are incompetent if you think it wise to leave a prisoner such as myself alone. There is no telling what I might do.”

You do your best to offer Raubahn a reassuring smile and tell him he can go. The dark-skinned man narrows his eyes in one final glare at Zenos before walking out of the room. 

The moment the door closes, you push Zenos onto the bed with a surge of strength.


	4. Praise

Zenos lands hard on the silken bedsheets with a surprised gasp. He stifles a moan when you take his cock in your hand. It quickly hardens as you lean in and kiss his navel. The Garlean shudders; his legs reflexively come up around you, caging you in the space between them. You glance up to find him watching you, lidded eyes set over flushed cheeks.

He opens his mouth, but a squeeze at the base of his dick makes him throw his head back, moaning your name. You kiss and suck your way up his torso, abandoning his cock to reach his collarbone. You latch your lips onto his neck, just above the collar. His hand flattens against your back in an attempt to keep you in place while you suck. He writhes beneath you, hips jerking whenever your teeth scrape his skin.

Your hands cradle either side of his face. A pleasurable chill seems to pass through him when you exert just enough pressure to keep him still. He presses his hands into the mattress on either side of him until he finally stops moving. His pale blue eyes hold your gaze until he slowly closes them. You feel him try to lean his head back, but you press your fingers harder into his skin until he stops.

You lean in with a smile and lick his jaw. The Garlean groans and tenses, but remains still. You slowly lick your way to his mouth before forcing your tongue past his lips in a deep kiss. He moans into you before eagerly engaging. 

The man whines when you pull back, granting you a chance to admire the way his pale blue eyes begged for more. One of your hands drops to lightly trace the collar around his neck. The action draws more shivers from him and his breathing turns shallow.

You lean over to his ear while you twirl a loose strand of golden hair between your fingers. You whisper praise into his ear. Praise for his abilities. Praise for his beauty. Praise for his defense of  _ you _ .

His face turns a deeper shade of red as he buries the back of his head into the mattress. Tears slip out of the corner of his eyes when he closes them. A purr rumbles in his chest as he rolls beneath you.

"More," he begs. "Please, don't stop."

Your lips curve into a smile as you continue. You praise his strength, his intelligence, his  _ body _ . You kiss the tender spot below his ear, peppering in praise as you work your way down.

You praise his neck and kiss.

You praise his chest and kiss.

You praise his nipple and  _ bite _ .

He arcs himself into you as your teeth make contact. You shift down into his lap to find his cock ready. You smirk mischievously up at him and praise his dick, gently pressing a kiss to the tip. His thighs twitch as he falls back into the bed.

"More," he pleads. " _ More _ , my friend."

You praise his size and lightly suckle the head. You praise the length and lick your way down the shaft. You praise his girth and press a kiss to the base, the golden curls tickling your nose. 

One of your hands holds him in place by the hip while the other wraps around what it can of the base of his cock. You return to the head and begin lightly licking it until the Garlean begs by crying out your name. 

You lock eyes with a smirk and take as much of him into your mouth as you can. It’s tight, but you manage. He tries to thrust upwards, but you keep him still--which only seems to make him twitch all the more.

Once you reach your limit, you begin running your tongue over the length in your mouth in preparation. He stifles a series of moans when you suck and bob your head. You squeeze the base of his shaft until he cries out in painful pleasure. When he lifts his head, you shoot him a glare that makes him shiver, but he nods in understanding.

You stroke whatever you can't fit in your mouth. Between your hand and mouth, his groans soon turn into cries. After a few seconds, he cries out your name. His hand flies to your shoulder to push you off, but you slap it away. You feel his cock pulsate just before he releases into your mouth. You take the salty fluid in stride, swallowing what he unloads.

You slide him out of your mouth as he goes soft. You crawl up his body and kiss him, making him taste his own release. When you break away, he softly purrs your name and wraps his arms around you. You smile at his warmth while he nuzzles the side of your face.

"I would return the favor this moment, but am loathe to have your allies charge in here to interrupt a second time," he purrs. "Shall I get dressed so we may meet them?”

You hum and nod, pressing a final kiss to his toned chest before sliding off. From your seat on the bed, you watch him remove the silk robe, letting it fall to the floor before slowly putting on clean clothes. In truth, it’s nothing more than a tight, black long sleeve shirt beneath a leather chest piece with a pair of pants and matching greaves. A pair of gloves are the last things to go on before he drapes the white Garlean military coat over his shoulders. As a final touch, he pulls the ponytail so it falls down one side of his chest.

His eyes sweep the room, a faint frown darkening his lips. When you ask what’s wrong, he focuses on you before looking at the door.

“I must have left my swords in the menagerie,” he murmurs. “Can we get them before meeting your allies?”

You raise your eyebrow at the question. His eyes widen ever so subtly at your reaction while his hands ball into fists at his sides. He glances at the door and swallows; the bump in his throat bobs at the motion. 

“Please,” he says softly, refocusing his attention on you. “I understand how it must look that I wish to be armed, but I do not want my swords falling into the hands of savages.”

You study the tense Garlean for a moment and shake your head. Pain flashes across his face as if you had stabbed him in the heart. He crosses the room and falls to his knees in front of you; even then he’s still as tall as you.

“It would take no more than five minutes. If trust is an issue, then you can accompany me. We could go directly to meet your allies afterwards.”

Again, you shake your head. His jaw goes slack as he stares longingly at the door. When he turns his head back to you, he glares at you and bares his teeth in a snarl.

“You don’t understand what those mean to me,” he growls. 

You smirk in response and cross your arms. His glare slowly softens as his eyebrows lift in shock. He sits back on his heels, shoulders slumped in defeat.

“You would have me choose,” he observes. 

His gaze drops to his hands in his lap. Zenos takes a deep breath, which he releases in a trembling sigh. 

“Would you at least allow me  _ one _ weapon?”

You tilt your head as you consider the question. When you close your eyes, you sense his stare--but also realize that he remains at your feet instead of bolting. You smile and open your eyes to find him watching you, eyebrows knit together in despair.

Agonizingly slow, you bring your hand up to stroke the top of his head. Your hand follows the gathered strands of hair until you reach the side of his neck and finger the collar there. His blue eyes dart over your face, panic growing ever more evident as you delay your response. 

You lean down to take one of his hands and kiss it. When you curl his fingers to form a fist, he raises an eyebrow in confusion. 

“My fists?”

You nod before kissing his knuckles. He lowers his gaze and brings up his other hand, turning them over as he studies them. They flex a few times, closing and opening in front of his eyes. Disappointment settles onto his face, but he nods in defeat.

“If you wish,” he sighs. “It  _ has _ been some time since I last fought unarmed. I should welcome the challenge. Will you ever allow me my swords?”

Your head tilts the other way as you tap a finger on your chin. Zenos slowly leans in to peer up at you. You smirk and press a kiss to his forehead, just above his third eye. Before he can question you, you hop up from the bed and tug on his hand. He silently follows you out of the room.


	5. Presence

Zenos paces up and down the length of the cell. It was comfortable enough--for what it was, at least. They had given him a cot to lie on and the blanket would suffice for the cooler night temperatures. It was small and the ceiling was low, but the latter was true for most rooms in his case.

He had to admit that things had gone well, all things considered. His friend’s allies had been waiting for them where the short Elezen had said. They immediately searched him for weapons and slapped handcuffs on him. They transported him to a tent on the other side of the loch just outside Castrum Abania. The leaders interrogated him, demanding information regarding troop placements and strategies. Zenos willingly gave what he could recall--if the others did not change their plans after learning of his defeat, then it was their own fault for being useless.

Most of the leaders seemed to believe him, but the Ala Mhigan and the Doman were skeptical. It was an observation he was glad to make since it showed some level of intelligence among the savages. The Ishgardian representative, in particular, stoically studied every move he made, only stopping when he quietly conferred with the Warrior. Zenos found himself reluctantly respecting the black-haired Elezen, but felt wary at the familiarity he sensed between him and his friend. 

Following the interrogation, they took Zenos to one of the castrum's prison cells and locked the door, leaving him alone. 

So he paced.

Zenos stops in the center of the cell and studies the walls for what felt like the hundredth time. It was a simple cell with flat, nondescript walls. The only light came from the small window set in the solid door. 

He quietly sighs in the darkness of his cell.

"Is this to be my life?" he wonders. "Caged like a beast with no light and no view of the outside world? Kept away from my friend?"

Another sigh punctuates the silence. He strides over to the door and leans down to peer through the window.

"Not even a sword to swing or a book to read," he says a little louder. "A _book_ at the very least! I cannot turn _that_ into a murder weapon, I assure you!"

**_< Futile. They cannot hear you, princeling.>_ **

Zenos glances over his shoulder at the barren cell. As he suspected, he is alone. 

**_< I would not be so quick to claim as such,> _ **the voice continues. 

Zenos hums quietly with the realization that the voice can hear his thoughts. He turns to face the empty cell, hands at his waist.

**_< I can. By absorbing the newly born primal, it seems you absorbed what is left of my essence.>_ **

"You seem to have me at a disadvantage," Zenos observes. "You have access to my thoughts yet I did not even know there was something other than the primal we had captured."

**_< So much for Garlemald's lauded frumentarii. I thought your great-grandfather had ears among the so-called savages of the land. I suppose the lot of you truly are fools.>_ **

Annoyance bubbled up inside the Garlean at the words. He quickly stifles the emotion upon sensing foreign amusement invade his mind. Instead, Zenos focuses on what else had been said.

"You speak of the old man with familiarity," he notes. "But you have yet to tell me your name, strange voice."

**_< It will be an eternity before you are worthy of knowing my true name. For now, you will make do with my title. I am Lahabrea, Paragon of the Source.>_ **

"A fancy sounding title, but meaningless to me."

The voice scoffs while Zenos sits against the wall of his cell, facing the door with crossed legs. He smirks as he rests his head back and closes his eyes, letting his hands rest on his knees.

"I suppose you will be acceptable entertainment for the time being."

**_< I am not here for the purposes of entertainment, princeling.>_ **

"Then enlighten me as to your purpose. We have naught else to do other than talk, imprisoned as we both are. Although I suppose 'tis worse for you, since you are trapped inside a prisoner." 

He chuckles. The sound grows heartier at the anger he suddenly senses. 

"Are you not trapped?” he challenges with a laugh. “Then prove me wrong. Claim your freedom and walk out of this cell."

He is suddenly keenly aware of the foreign presence in his mind. A light weight settles over his limbs. He focuses on the sudden intruder in his mind. 

A simple force of will activates his Resonance. Zenos sees a ruined castrum beneath him. He feels the intensity of the fires on the bare skin of his face. He hears a familiar voice muffled through a Garlean helmet. 

Zenos slowly opens his eyes and studies the ceiling of his cell as the weight dissipates from his limbs. Fatigue that is not his seeps into his bones.

“I recognize who you are,” he admits. “You were the one helping Baelsar, weren’t you? With his little Weapon project.”

A faint sense of confirmation enters his consciousness. He does his best to recall the details of Baelsar’s reports concerning the masked figure, but comes up with very little. He had dismissed the information at the time as irrelevant to his affairs in Gyr Abania and Othard and therefore not paid much attention to it.

He focuses his attention on the presence once again and reactivates his Resonance. The presence struggles against him and tries to conceal itself but he easily overpowers it. He pulls it into view.

A figure slowly takes shape in his mind's eye. Short, with a Hyuran build, wearing hooded, black robes with spiked gold ornaments on the shoulders and upper arms. The ornaments fade into a duller color as they continue down the figure's body mixing with violet embroidery. The figure's face is obscured by a glowering red mask with fangs framing his lips. His gaze sweeps over the figure again, noting its transparency.

Curiosity tempered with anger flares within his mind.

 **_< What have you done to yourself?> _ ** the masked man demands. **_< A Garlean should not have access to such abilities.>_ **

He scoffs at the question, dismissing his Resonance. The figure fades away, leaving him with a sense of stunned silence.

“You are not in a place to demand answers,” Zenos replies. “Whatever happened to you between the events of the Praetorium and now have left you _weak_. I do recall, however, heard rumors of your kind from the soldiers. Masked figures in black robes teaching beasts how to summon their gods into existence. How pitiful of you to have been trapped in the very thing you and your colleagues wrought to torment this star.” 

**_< A fragmented fool such as yourself has no right to judge me! And _ ** **_you_ ** **_are worse than any other I’ve had the displeasure to possess! A Garlean with a stolen Echo. You’re no better than a thief! >_ **

Zenos raises an eyebrow at the term ‘fragmented’. He idly considered taking offense at being called a thief, but accepted that it _was_ true, thanks to the experiments. Before he can question the presence further, he hears footsteps approaching his cell door. It opens to reveal _you_ with two plates of food. 

Annoyance rises in the back of his mind at the sight of you. Zenos suddenly realizes you must have battled the presence cowering in his mind when you stormed the Praetorium with your allies. A quick mental note and he dismisses the presence to the very edge of his consciousness.

With a smile, he hops up to his feet before crossing the small cell in two strides. A kiss to your forehead is paid in exchange for the plate with more food.

"Thank you, my friend."

You smile up at him before glancing around the cell. A frown darkens your face as you voice your concerns. He shrugs lazily while you sit on the cot with the remaining plate. Zenos claims a spot on the floor with his dinner, close to your feet. 

"'Tis serviceable enough a place," he responds. "I am a captured prisoner, am I not? Had the roles been reversed, I would not have granted the prisoner a private cell, much less a cot and blanket. This is practically a luxury."

He smirks up at you as a thought occurs to him.

“Unless the prisoner were _you_ , of course. You merit _special_ treatment, my friend,” he purrs.

You smile down at him and gently stroke his hair. He rests his head against your knee as the two of you finish your meal in silence.

The presence stirs in Zenos’ mind. He feels its anger at his comportment with you. He smirks before pressing a gentle kiss to your leg. His face suddenly twitches and his hands tense as the presence tries to seize control of him. He pushes it away; it rages against the attempt, but succumbs in the end--although not before flooding him with anger.

Zenos ignores the influx of emotion. A lazy smile crosses his face as he notes how weak and easily ignored the presence is. He presses another kiss to your leg and sets aside his empty plate to shift onto his knees so he can reach your face with little problem. 

He lightly rests a hand on your thigh and kisses your lips. His other hand takes your plate and lowers it to the floor. You finally return the kiss with an amused hum as you slide your fingers into his hair and massage his scalp. The Garlean moans into your mouth. He runs his hand along your thigh before giving it a gentle squeeze. You smile against his lips. You slide to the edge of the cot and wrap your legs around Zenos, holding him close.

The presence _growls_ , catching Zenos off guard. Something activates within him. He suddenly grabs you and pulls you onto the ground while he bares his teeth in a snarl. 

You gasp in surprise but quickly glare at him. Ignoring your expression, his hand wraps around your neck and squeezes. You struggle against him, tugging at his wrist and pushing against his chest. A dark chuckle tumbles out of his mouth as your flailing grows weaker. 

Your hands suddenly grab his neck. Despite your diminishing strength, you tighten your grip. Your nails dig into his skin until he feels warmth trickle down his neck and chest. He pulls back, but the action only makes you scratch lines down his flesh, drawing more blood in the process. He stifles a moan as his cock reflexively hardens.

Confusion floods Zenos and his hands twitch, immediately releasing their hold. Finding himself back in control of his body, the Garlean removes himself from your grip and retreats to the far wall. You roll onto your side and cough, holding your hand to your neck. 

Zenos slides down the wall, hands wandering to his erection. He silently questions the presence. Its confusion remains, but is now colored by something that is becoming increasingly familiar to the Garlean. His eyes roll back into his head when his hand pulls his cock out of his pants and closes around it. 

A moment later, his hand is forced away and pinned to the wall. The same happens to the other one. His eyes focus just enough to see you looming over him with a glare. Zenos quietly whines and writhes under your harsh stare. The presence, on the other hand, is suddenly silent. 

“F-forgive me,” he pants. “I-I can explain.”

You demand that he do so. The light growl in your voice makes his dick twitch. A moan slips out of his lips as his eyes close. He tries to slide further, but you keep him pinned in place. Your weight shifts so one foot presses against his inner thigh, close to his cock. The mere sensation pushes him close to the edge.

“I… _I_ absorbed _mo-ore_ than the eikon,” he moans. “ _Nnnng_ there was s-s-something _else_.”

You ease off the foot stepping on his crotch. Zenos whines again and tries to grind himself into you. You move your foot away and demand he explain his meaning.

He closes his eyes and focuses on the presence in his mind. In its confusion, it puts up no resistance as he forces it forward. 

His hands clench into fists. His writhing stops. His tensed muscles still twitch, however, and his hips jerk upwards in search of your touch. His eyes focus on you as he moans through snarling teeth. Anger pushes back the confusion and the pleasurable haze. 

"We meet again, Bringer of _Light_."

His voice sounds strange and rough; almost as if he wasn't used to it. The cadence was off even to Zenos’ ears. You gasp at the title and plant both feet on the ground, much to Zenos’ displeasure. Your grip on his wrists tightens to the point of pain as if to pin him in place.

Zenos pulls the presence back to the edge of his consciousness, granting him control of his limbs once more. His hands relax and his writhing renews as he searches for release. You loosen your hold on his wrists in shock. His hands slide out of your grasp, only to cling to the metallic floor on either side of him.

“You kn- _know_ him, don’t you?” he asks, barely biting back the moan that rumbles in his throat.

You slowly nod, taking a step back. His eyebrows draw together when he notices the growing distance between you. He almost begs you to return, but holds his tongue. You murmur a word. Zenos confirms your suspicion with a nod.

“It seems to be. At least, he claims his _title_ to be ‘Lahabrea’.”

You take another step back and study him. Zenos takes a deep breath and glances down. He wants to finish himself off, but refrains because _you_ told him not to. The thought makes him squirm in place, seeking friction against his aching cock. Impatience spreads through his mind as the presence hisses its annoyance. One of his hands reaches for his erection, but he flattens it against his thigh.

You tilt your head as you slowly approach. An unasked question is clear in your eyes. His hand dents the metal beside him while he struggles to keep his voice steady.

“It’s _mmm-me_ , my friend,” he assures you. “I will admit that I let _mmm-my_ guard down, but I shall not repeat that mis- _stake_.”

You nudge his legs apart with your foot and kneel in the space created. Zenos tilts his head back against the wall behind him, biting his lower lip to keep from moaning in need. You slowly lower his pants to his ankles and slide the turtleneck up and over his head, before tossing it over your shoulder. His light armor had been removed following his interrogation.

Your hand brushes against his aching head. Zenos lets out a guttural moan and strains to keep from bucking into your touch.

 **_< Will you take care of _ ** **_that_ ** **_so I can think?! > _ **Lahabrea demands. 

Zenos chuckles at the frustration lurking at the edge of his mind. He closes his eyes as he feels your hands trace the bloodied scratches in his neck. A shiver runs down his spine at the sensation.

You wipe off some of the blood and brings it to your lips. He openly stares as your forefinger slides past your lips down to the base. His jaw goes slack as you slowly remove your finger, maintaining eye contact the entire time. It comes out with a soft pop, cleaned of his blood. You smirk knowingly and that’s enough for him. 

Once he was spent, you leave to find a rag to clean him up. The presence--or rather Lahabrea--remains mercifully silent. Upon your return, you carefully wipe him down and fix his clothes. You lightly rest a hand on his shoulder as you lean in and gently kiss him on the lips. 

You quietly inform him that, following this development, you cannot leave him alone in a cell; you simply don’t know what the Ascian has planned. He smirks at your last comment.

“From what I can tell, my mental stowaway _has_ no plan. He seems weak compared to what I’ve heard from Baelsar’s reports. That he managed to wrest control from me earlier was due to my lowered guard. I assure you it will not happen again.”

You settle into his lap with a silent nod. His arms reflexively wrap around to hold you in place. Zenos nudges your chin up with his nose to study the bruises developing on your neck. He softly kisses them before making an observation.

“Lahabrea hates you. He would see you dead.”

You nod and rest your head against him. You explain that it is a _long_ story. From your tone, it isn’t one you wish to recount now. Zenos nods obediently and kisses your temple. 

You fall fast asleep in his arms--or at least, in as deep a sleep as any warrior can in the presence of an enemy. Cradling you in his arms, Zenos could feel your still-tensed muscles ready to react to anything that threatened you. He holds you close, breathing in your scent and closing his eyes.

“Sleep,” he whispers. “I will protect you, my friend.”

He allows himself to slip into a light slumber.


	6. Interlude - Steps

The steps soothed him, strange as it might sound.

Reload.

Lift.

Aim.

Prime.

Shoot.

Lower.

His father had taught them to him as soon as he could hold one of the smaller pistols. His  _ grandfather  _ had objected, of course, but his father had insisted--and the old man rarely denied his eldest anything.

Reload.

Lift.

Aim.

Prime.

Shoot.

Lower.

His grandsire had objected to most things: his education, his career, even his  _ body _ \--whatever that meant. Things had only gotten worse once the sickness claimed his father's life.

Reload.

Lift.

Aim.

Prime.

Shoot.

Lower.

He might as well have been invisible. Looking back, he now regrets the effort he put into trying to impress the old man. He was never  _ as _ something. Never as good. Never as strong. Never as intelligent. He  _ lacked _ . 

Reload.

Lift.

Aim.

Prime.

Shoot.

Lower.

A messenger arrives and salutes. A cold glance is all he needs to pry the report from the short Garlean's lips.

"Ala Mhigo has fallen, Your Radiance. Zenos has been captured."

His scowl deepens. He dismisses the messenger with a silent nod. His golden eyes focus on the distant target riddled with bullet holes.

"What are you planning, you little monster?" he murmurs.

Reload.

Lift.

Aim.

Prime.

Shoot.

Lower.


	7. Ascian

You wake in Zenos' arms. The Garlean shifts around you before stretching with a stifled yawn. His arms settle back over you.

"Good morning," he murmurs into the top of your head. "At least, I would like to think it's morning. Hard to tell without any windows."

You stretch and turn in his lap until you face him. You gently trace his muscles through the tight, black turtleneck. He relaxes against the wall behind him. Realization hits you and a question tumbles from your mouth. Zenos glances at the metal wall behind him and shrugs lazily.

"I slept sitting up because I did not wish to disturb you," he replies and tightens his grip to pull you down as he lies on the cold floor.

He moves so you lay atop him, cradled in his warm arms. The loose strands of his golden hair radiate from his head like a crown. The sight brings a smile to your face as he shuts his eyes. His breathing slows and his hold on you relaxes. You soon realize the Garlean has dozed off.

Your eyes trace his sleeping face. Wonder fills you at how the serene-looking man below you could be the same one who, the day before, tried to kill you and then absorbed a primal just to fuck you. Your gaze falls on the collar hugging his muscular neck. 

The thought that you somehow tamed this beast of a man lights something in your veins. Your eyes wander to the dents he left the night before in the metallic flooring. Your mind recalls the way his strength cracked the bricks in the menagerie, but he holds _you_ like he would fine porcelain.

You gently kiss the center of his chest. Zenos stirs before falling asleep once more. You had thought to tell him of the Clan Hunt bills you had gathered the night before, but decide to give him the good news when he wakes. You smile, anticipating his excitement at competing with you for the most marks.

The man below you stirs again, this time with a pained groan. His pale blue eyes ease open as you frown at him in concern. He tenses when you lock gazes. His eyes immediately narrow and he pushes you off him. Hatred emanates from his glare, making you realize who it is. You suddenly regret visiting Zenos without your weapon the night before.

He struggles to stand while you hop to your feet. Once upright, he sways unsteadily before bracing himself against the wall. One hand comes up to rub his forehead; he grimaces when the tips of his fingers run along his third eye.

"No, I decidedly do not enjoy that," he murmurs under his breath.

You brace yourself as he glares at you and then the door. Carefully, you move to stand between the possessed Garlean and the sole exit.

"Move, Champion."

Despite the deep growl in his voice, his gaze wavers. He takes one step towards you only to fall to his knees. His hands fly forward to catch himself before he falls. One hand balls up into a fist to punch the floor. It hits with a dull clang and nothing else.

You take in his current state and relax. He slowly lifts his head to watch you before snorting derisively.

"Finish me, then," he spits. "Drive me from this body like you did before. Perhaps _this_ time you'll actually kill me." 

You approach hesitantly; his eyes never leave yours. Once he's in reach, you gingerly lift your hand and rest it on his head. He recoils, falling backwards, and glares up at you. With a sigh, you lower your hand and watch him.

An eyebrow lifts and his expression softens as a chuckle rumbles through him.

"You're unable to, aren't you?" he asks with a tired grin. " _She_ is weaker now than before--too weak to help you. You can't force me out of this body."

Your gaze sweeps over him, unwilling to confirm or deny his suspicion. His grin widens at your hesitation.

"What a curious development, wouldn't you say, Champion? Whatever will you do, I wonder. How long will you suffer an Ascian to possess your newest--what does the princeling call you-- _friend_?"

You glare at him. It only makes him laugh. The sound is harsh and approaching manic compared to that of Zenos. He points a finger at you; a victorious grin spreads across his borrowed face.

"Yes! There is the Warrior of the accursed Light that I remember! How will you save this one? Or have you learned that you cannot save _everyone_?!”

His words strike a chord deep within you. You charge forward, quickly closing the distance between the two of you. His steeled glare falters at the last possible moment. His eyes shut.

Your arms wrap around his chest. The possessed Garlean hesitates, tenses, then tries to jerk away from you. You hold fast, tightening your hold into a bear hug. His hands grasp your shoulders in an attempt to push you away. 

Instead, the Ascian freezes. You glance at his face to find him staring at you with the red and black eyes of the Resonance. He slowly shakes his head as he tries to pry himself from your embrace.

 **_< No... You can’t be. How can he even _ ** **_see_...** ** _>_ **

It takes a moment for you to realize your Echo is translating the Ascian’s speech. It takes even longer to realize the hatred in his eyes has softened as he studies you. A trembling hand reaches up to hesitantly brush your cheek with the tips of his fingers. Tears well up in his eyes.

**_< No… it’s not quite all there, but… You’re…>_ **

He lowers his gaze. His eyes slowly close, displacing the tears brimming within them. He murmurs a word the Echo seems unable to translate and goes limp, slumping against your chest. Panic rises inside you as you support the heavy giant. You struggle to lay him down on the floor beside you. After a quick check, you discover that he’s merely sleeping. 

Panic cedes to confusion once you’re sure Zenos is fine. You fetch the blanket from the cot and tuck it around the sleeping Garlean before settling in beside him.

Although you _intend_ to sleep, your mind whirs trying to understand your interaction with Lahabrea. What could the Ascian have seen that would provoke such a reaction from him? It seemed as if he recognized something--but what?


	8. Hunt

You stir from your nap to Zenos tucking the blanket around you on the cot. He stills upon noticing your open eyes and greets you with a smile.

“Good morning again, my friend. It seems I fell asleep; my apologies.” 

You smile back before sitting up in the cot. The Garlean silently watches you rub the sleep from your eyes. Following a stretch, you ask him if he would like breakfast. Zenos shrugs disinterestedly.

“I suppose I could eat. I shall wait here.”

You raise an eyebrow at his readiness to remain in the cell. When you remind him that you cannot leave him alone while the Ascian is inside him, he blinks lazily.

“Very well then, your faithful hound shall follow his master. I suppose you will at the very least cuff me for appearance’s sake.”

You have to swallow a laugh as you swing your legs over the side of the cot. Your following comment makes Zenos’ eyes widen ever so slightly. A slight smirk curls his lips.

“Would you now?” he drawls, leaning in close enough to make you fall back on the cot. “They would have to be rather strong to keep me bound. Unless you would prefer to call upon your  _ strength _ once again to keep me in check.”

Something hard and  _ thick _ presses into your leg; you don’t even have to glance down to see what it is as you come to the realization that this man is insatiable. He leans in, covering you in a cascade of golden hair, and rubs the tip of his nose into the crook of your neck. For a moment you consider giving in to him—and nearly do. Instead, you reach up and rub the simple, leather strip hugging Zenos’ neck and hidden by his turtleneck. You inform him that you think that should be enough to guarantee he behaves himself.

He lifts his face to kiss a line from your neck to your jaw and stops at the corner of your mouth. The disappointment in his pale eyes is obvious. You lightly kiss him on the lips before informing him of your plans and the Clan Hunt bills you took the night before. Zenos perks up at the news.

“We could see who kills the most marks,” he suggests.

You laugh at his predictability, but accept the challenge nonetheless. He stands, finally allowing you to get up from the cot and lead him out the door.

Once the two of you have eaten breakfast while ignoring the wary and watchful gazes of your allies, you lead Zenos out of the castrum on foot. It proves to be a long walk, however, since you doubt your chocobo could bear his weight—much less both of you at once. 

When you finally reach the northern part of the Lochs, you stop outside what looks like a cemetary overseen by a crypt built into the mountainside and show Zenos the bill for the mark in the area. His gaze lists from the paper in your hands to the bhoots drifting among the weathered graves.

“They pay you a pittance to kill that which is already dead?” he asks. 

You shake your head, but let the comment slide as you draw your weapon. Zenos glances down at you and holds up his empty hands.

“Do you expect me to punch them to their second death?”

You smirk at the question. Surely someone with  _ his _ skill level wouldn’t have a problem with a ghost or three. The Garlean sighs and rolls his shoulders.

“Very well, my friend; don’t get upset when you lose to an unarmed man. First one to kill three is the winner?” He waits for you to nod. “And what will be my prize for winning?”

You roll your eyes at his arrogance, but consider the question all the same. It comes to you and twists your smirk into an impish grin. You share your idea, only for Zenos to scoff and cross his arms across his broad chest.

“Should I win, I will earn the right to give  _ you _ three commands at a time of my choosing. Should I lose, then you will grant me a sword to use the next time I fight. Do you expect me to throw this little competition to earn a blade? And what precisely would  _ you _ get from my loss?”

You shrug. Surely that wouldn’t matter considering he planned on winning, right? Pale blue eyes narrow in suspicion as the Garlean studies you. After a moment’s study, he shakes his head dismissively and focuses on a bhoot while readying his gloved fists.

“We start on your mark, my friend.”

Both of you dart forward at your signal. As you suspected, Zenos is just as skilled with his fists as he was with his swords. He makes quick work of his first target and dashes further into the graveyard to attack his next mark. You idly realize you had never seen him move with such speed or grace, having grown accustomed to his lazy saunter in your other battles. 

Focusing on your challenge, you defeat the bhoot preparing a paralysis spell and throw a long-range attack at a second to bring it towards you. Your attack unfortunately also draws the attention of a  _ third  _ ghost. You swear under your breath as you ready yourself to face two of the phantoms at once. After a few exchanges, you sense both enemies begin casting a spell. You interrupt one, but realize you have no way of stopping the other. 

A series of quickly approaching footsteps reaches you followed by Zenos tackling the casting bhoot with his shoulder. He slides to a stop, placing himself between you and the third ghost. The bhoot you had interrupted turns its attention to the Garlean and lashes out at his back with its appendages. You strike quickly, finishing it off just as he turns around. 

Zenos huffs. He focuses on the bhoot he tackled as it floats up from where it had fallen. To your surprise, it flees into the tomb built into the mountainside. His weight shifts just enough for you to think the Garlean is about to chase after it. Instead, he seems to reconsider and turns to carefully help you to your feet.

“Are you safe?” he asks, glancing over you for any injuries. “Did its spell go off?”

The genuine concern in his voice and eyes warms you more than the sun beaming on the pair of you. An easy smile spreads across your face and you shake your head to reassure the tall Garlean. Satisfied, he nods at the entrance to the tomb.

“Then our hunt continues, my friend. I believe we are both tied with two kills; this one shall be the tiebreaker.”

The smile cracks into a grin as you sprint forward without warning. You sense Zenos’ stunned silence at the infantile tactic before a chuckle reaches your ears. Next thing you know, the man is easily jogging beside you. He smirks before putting on a burst of speed and darting ahead of you. You shout that he’s cheating with the length of his legs. He laughs, but doesn’t slow down as he vanishes into the dark tomb.

You give chase only to run into his back upon entering the tomb. His hand reaches behind himself to hold you in place while you peer around him. Before both of you, a giant specter glows an eerie blue in the darkness of the crypt. Its wide mouth bares sharp teeth in a threatening snarl while the glowing light in its empty sockets focuses on Zenos. The blue specter takes a step towards him with a hiss. 

“I recall reading the reports regarding this  _ thing _ ,” says the Garlean, ensuring he stays between you and this new phantom. “I dismissed it as excuses from men shirking their duty in favor of drink. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so quick to execute the lot of alcoholics.”

Zenos gently pulls you to his right while he steps to the left; the specter keeps its gaze trained on him. 

“If the men’s stories were true, this thing should leave you be; it seems to hate Garleans as much as every other being on this continent. Our previous prey fled deeper into the crypt. I’ll distract our new quarry while you chase down the other.” 

Despite knowing perfectly well what the man is capable of, you hesitate. With a dismissive click of his tongue, Zenos darts to the left, leading the specter away from you and the passage leading deeper into the crypt. You reconsider your earlier decision to keep your enemy-possibly-turned-ally unarmed and nearly offer him a spare weapon from your seemingly infinite collection. 

“Go!” he barks. 

Reluctantly, you obey and hurry down the passage with the intention of finding the injured bhoot quickly and finishing it off to return to your—

_ No _ . 

You push the thought aside as you scan the next chamber for the enemy. You catch a glimpse of it drifting behind some rubble and launch an attack at it. A few more hits and the bhoot collapses to the cracked floor. You wait a moment to confirm its death before rushing back to where you had left Zenos. 

The entry hall is empty by the time you return. You look around, trying to figure out where Zenos could have led the giant specter. An echoed grunt draws your attention to a door further down the hall. You follow the dimly lit passage beyond to find another exit from the crypt leading to the side of the mountain. 

In the space between you and the edge of the cliff, you see Zenos fighting the specter. It swings a claw at the Garlean who easily dodges it before harnessing his momentum to leap up and kick it. The specter shakes its head after the impact and hisses. The sound summons a pool of darkness at Zenos’ feet just as the phantom lunges forward to grab him. 

You sprint forward and push the Garlean out of the specter’s reach and spell. The two of you fall to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Zenos quickly pulls himself free and moves away from you, but the specter keeps its glowing eye sockets trained on you. The tall man shouts something at it to draw its attention, but the monster attacks you instead. It swipes at you with its claws. You lift your weapon to block the blow.

It never comes. 

Zenos darts between you and the specter, arms raised defensively. He hisses in pain as the claws gouge his forearms. Before it can raise its clawed hands to strike again, the Garlean snatches its wrists—clenching his teeth through the obvious discomfort—and holds it in place.

“ _ Kill _ it,” he snaps.

Shaking off your stupor, you finish off the restrained specter. The light vanishes from its sockets as Zenos releases it, allowing the monster to crumple to the ground. He takes a step back from the corpse and turns his attention to his trembling, bloodied forearms.

You force him to sit down while you berate him and check his injuries. The Garlean lets out a shaky laugh in response. 

“I will admit I have had better ideas, but I had no other way to keep you safe. Far better for me to be injured in your stead, my friend; I’ve always healed quickly.”

You frown at the tremble in his voice and rummage through your bag for a potion. He raises an eyebrow when you hold it out to him. Before he can question your offer, you press the bottle to his lips and lift it. Zenos drains the bright blue liquid with a grimace and a restrained shudder.

“I see remedies retain the same repulsive flavor across the continents,” the man observes as he watches his bleeding come to a stop. 

You pull another from your bag; Zenos gently takes hold of your hand before you can press the mouth of the already uncorked bottle to his lips.

“Please, my friend, give me a moment before you pour more of that tincture down my throat.”

You relax at his faint smile and lean against his shoulder as the adrenaline of the battle drains out of your system. He gingerly rests one arm on his knee while the other wraps around you. He nuzzles his nose into the top of your head before gently kissing it. Zenos whispers his thanks into your hair. You tilt your head back and smile up at him, resting one of your hands on the center of his chest. His own smile slowly vanishes as his hand covers yours.

“I suppose that makes you the victor of our little hunt,” he notes. “You killed three of those… what were they called? I suppose it doesn’t matter. I let you hunt down the third one while I focused on this strange thing.”

You raise an eyebrow at his words. With a snort, you stand up and cross your arms to glare at the seated Garlean. He lifts both hands, palms out.

“Did you not kill three of those dead things before I did? That makes you the victor, does it not?” A slow smirk twists his lips. “I must admit I am curious as to what sort of blade you will grant me. Although I assume you will only allow me to wield it in certain conditions—at least, that is what  _ I _ would do if our situations were reversed.”

You scowl at his rhetoric as he stands up and dusts off his clothes. He scoffs upon noticing the bloodstains on his white coat and dark pants. He checks the cuts on his arms before addressing you.

“Where to, my friend? Although, may I be so bold as to suggest somewhere containing a healer that can tend to these scratches?”

You swallow the urge to be contrarian and nod, leading the way back through the crypt to the cemetery in front of it. You consider your options, eyes drifting from the long, winding path you took to arrive there from the castrum to the  _ much  _ closer Ala Mhigan palace. 

The decision is easy once you notice what little color the Garlean possesses has drained from his face and that he’s lagging behind you. You slow down to take his hand as the two of you make your way along the shore of the loch. 

The further you go, the more you realize he’s leaning his weight on you. Your hand slides up to rub his back as your brow furrows in concern. 

“I’m fine,” he responds reflexively with a faint smile. “It’s simply possible that the events of the past few days are finally taking a toll on me.”

Two steps later, he teeters and collapses to the ground. 

You fall to your knees beside Zenos before rolling him onto his back. An annoyed hiss slips through his clenched teeth as a pair of pale blue eyes suddenly glare at you. Restraining the urge to prepare yourself for a fight, you keep a hand on his chest while the other reaches up for his neck to check his pulse. You note a blue-purple tinge making its way into the Garlean’s face while he struggles to breathe.

“Foolish boy can’t even tell when he’s poisoned. Normally, I would gloat, but—” His voice catches in a wheeze. A large hand clamps onto your arm. “I’ll give his body the aether it needs. Teleport us to the nearest aetheryte, Champion, or the boy dies.”

A nod and you grip Zenos’ hand and arm before closing your eyes. With the ease that comes from frequent practice, you locate the aetheric stream leading to the Ala Mhigan Quarter of the palace grounds. An ethereal wind whips your clothes as you suddenly feel weightless and give in to the aetheryte’s pull.

You appear in the Ala Mhigan Quarter and immediately collapse under the Garlean’s dead weight. Your shout draws some of the nearby Resistance guards to your aid, who pull the unconscious man from you. They nearly drop Zenos when they realize who they’re holding, but a quick order from you convinces them to carry him into the palace and fetch a healer.

A quiet sigh from behind makes you turn around to find Raubahn watching the guards with the Garlean. 

“It would be for the best if we let him die.”

The statement sets your temper ablaze and you glare at the man. He sighs again and nods after the guards. 

“What’s the point of keeping him alive? We have the information we need—if it’s even  _ accurate _ anymore after the Empire learns of his capture. For his crimes in Ala Mhigo alone, he should be put to death; even more so if you include the atrocities he committed while viceroy of Doma. Why do you insist we spare him?”

You remain silent for a moment before confessing he took a blow meant for you; if he hadn’t, then you would likely be the one unconscious right now. Raubahn shakes his head and turns away from you.

“It’s probably an act to make you drop your guard. Look, I won’t pretend to agree with you—and like most other Ala Mhigans, I would like nothing more than to see the prince dead and buried. If you’re serious, however, then you should accompany them and ensure the healer doesn’t find a way to turn to the darker side of their practice.”

You gasp in realization and hurry after the guards.

The healer is obviously displeased with their patient, but listens carefully as you tell them what happened—leaving out the detail of Lahabrea helping you teleport the unconscious Garlean. The Lalafell diagnoses him as likely suffering from some venom secreted by the specter’s claws. The best they could do is treat it, but he would likely need rest to make sure he fully recovers.

Once the treatment has been administered and his wounds bandaged, they suggest moving him to the royal chambers in an effort to keep him away from everyone else. You agree and volunteer to stay there with him as long as the healer checks in once a day. The Lalafell is very clear that they do not care, but agrees that someone should stay to monitor the Garlean and prefers it to be you instead of them.

A short bell later finds you in the royal chambers with Zenos laying on the bed and stripped of his bloodied clothes. You cover him with a blanket, sit on the edge of the bed with a book, and resign yourself to waiting for him to wake. 

A few pages in, the Garlean stirs with a quiet groan. A chill sweeps through him making the man clutch the blanket to himself with trembling fingers. His eyes slowly open and sweep around the room. They narrow before landing on you—which makes them subtly relax.

“I know this place,” he observes quietly. “How did we get here? Don’t tell me you dragged me into the palace from the loch’s edge.”

You shake your head and explain everything to him, from the moment he collapsed to the healer’s diagnosis; you choose not to mention your discussion with Raubahn. Zenos hums as you inform him that the healer recommended he rest for a few days.

“It seems my cell got an upgrade. Where will you be staying during my lavish imprisonment?”

You smirk and settle into bed beside him. He raises an eyebrow, but pulls you close with a bandaged arm. Just before it goes out of reach, you manage to grab another book from the bedside table and offer it to the Garlean. Zenos sits up in bed before leaning back against the headboard. You tuck yourself between his arm and torso while he reads the spine of the book.

“I don’t recognize this title.”

You confess to requesting a few books for him to read during his recovery. You took inspiration from the ones left behind amongst his personal belongings in the room. He smiles and presses a kiss into the top of your head, whispering a soft thank you. 


	9. Braid

You really shouldn't have been surprised at Zenos' recovery. The very next morning you find the tall Garlean lounging in the sunken bath, softly humming a tune as his eyes trace the mosaic on the ceiling. The melody stops when you approach the door and his gaze drops to study you. There’s something you can’t quite name in his expression before it returns to its typical neutrality. 

When you ask how he feels, he replies that he is not fully recovered, but _is_ much improved. He hoped a bath would help with the stiffness persisting in his joints. You nod and inform him you’ll be back with breakfast. 

After that, the two of you fall into a comfortable routine for the rest of the week. Using his recovery as an excuse for _you_ to rest as well, you spend your days and nights in the royal chambers with the recovering Garlean. The only time you leave the suite is to fetch your meals. 

You thought the man would grow bored being confined to the rooms, but he proves you wrong. To your surprise, he quickly devours the books you acquired for him in the first two days. By the third day, you notice Zenos has fallen into a schedule.

Despite your best efforts, he always wakes before you do. Every morning, you find the giant of a man reading a book somewhere in the royal chambers—typically the balcony. He continues reading between breakfast and lunch, after which he invites you to play chess with him. You pick up the game quickly, much to what seems to be his genuine surprise, and even beat him once or twice.

The gameplay continues until dinner and is only paused when the Lalafellin healer arrives to examine Zenos. After your meal, the tall man bathes before relaxing in bed with you until you fall asleep beside him. Conversation is, of course, had throughout the day, but only when you instigate it; otherwise Zenos remains silent with his thoughts.

At the end of the week, the Lalafell healer reluctantly admits to being impressed by how quickly the Garlean recovered from his injuries; the only sign left of his wounds are the pale scars on his forearms. The healer clears him to return to full activities the following day.

Zenos is missing when you wake up the following morning. His side of the bed is long-cold, making you wonder if he even slept. Not finding him anywhere in the royal chambers or the balcony, you slip on a robe and wander out into the rest of the palace. It isn't long before your feet bring you to the Royal Menagerie.

You find the Garlean prince sitting in the middle of a flower bed with his legs crossed and back facing you. From what you can see, Zenos changed out of the robe he had taken to wearing in the royal chambers and into his customary black turtleneck and pants. The man is as still as a painting; forearms lightly resting on his bent knees. The only movement comes when a breeze stirs the flowers near him and the ends of his long hair.

You approach. Despite your best attempts at stealth, he addresses you after a few steps.

"My apologies for leaving without warning, my friend. I thought you would sleep a bell more."

You ask what he's doing as you reach the sitting man. His back is straight and his eyes are closed. You have an idea, but...

"Meditating. It hones the senses and aids concentration."

You nod in understanding. Your eyes drift over to his hair. It catches the morning rays as the tips dance in the breeze. A thought occurs to you and you sit down behind him. A curious hum vibrates in Zenos—at least until you run your fingers through his hair. You had discovered one night that, while the man enjoyed your touch, stroking his golden locks was the surest way to make him relax. The hum deepens to a purr as the giant leans back, placing more hair into your reach.

You comb through his silken hair with your fingers. He relaxes further, hands reaching back to support himself so he doesn’t fall onto you. Zenos tilts his head back; his hair falls in a golden cascade. The very ends pool on the flowers between you. The thought solidifies into an idea and you smile.

Reaching up, you grab a section of his hair just left of the center of his head. Zenos once again leans into the touch and rubs his head against your fingertips. The reaction makes you smirk, but you apply just enough pressure with your other hand. He understands and looks forward; his head remains still despite the subtle shift you catch of his hips.

Splitting the section in two, you form it into a braid along his head, pulling in sections as needed. You tap the man’s hand and have him hold the plait while asking him if he has anything to tie his hair with since you’ve seen him suddenly pull his hair into a ponytail. He offers you a black ribbon from his pocket. You rest it on your lap before mirroring the braid on the other side of his head.

Once you have two braids, you gather both at the nape of his neck. You take a moment to admire the effect of the plait crown on the man’s head before weaving the rest of his hair into a long braid. Zenos takes deep breaths as you work. A glance at what little you can see of his face reveals the blush growing there. When done, you tie it off with the ribbon.

Before he can explore your work with his hands, you embrace him from behind. He melts into your arms with a groan. You press a kiss just behind his ear and move so he can lay down among the pink and white flowers. You carefully arrange the braid so as not to damage your work. 

Zenos relaxes while his pale blue eyes follow you. Satisfied with the braid’s placement, you crawl over and sit on his chest. You take his hands and guide them to carefully feel the braids in his hair. Confusion furrows his brow until you pass his hands over his hair a second time. He makes a silent sound of understanding before slipping his broad hands out of your smaller ones. His eyes close while his hands come to rest on your legs. Lithe fingers begin to caress the tops of your thighs while you study his face.

You lean over and stroke his cheek. Zenos lifts his chin only to tuck it into his chest, rolling his head into your touch. A soft smile crosses your face at his reaction. You scoot lower on his torso and lie down on his chest. His eyes open into slits just long enough to confirm your position before sliding shut once more.

The flowers around the two of you catch your eye. You pluck one and carefully thread it into the braid. His eyes open to reveal his confusion at the sensation while you pick another flower and tuck it in behind the first. The corners of his lips curl into a frown as his eyes follow your movements with a third flower.

“What are you doing?”

Your simple answer only seems to confuse him further.

“Yes, I can see that you’re putting flowers in my hair. But _why_?”

You smile and shrug. Another flower is added to his hair. 

Despite the perplexion in his eyes, he lays still while you decorate the opposite braid. A few minutes later, Zenos lies in a thinned out patch of flowers. The white and pink blossoms form a crown on his head and trail down the long braid.

From his lap, you gently pull the prince up into a sitting position. A soft kiss on his lips leaves him resting his forehead against yours. His eyes close while his Garlean eye presses into your skin. Zenos inhales; a shiver passes through him when he catches your scent.

“What have you done to me, my friend?” he drawls.

You smile at the question and wonder if he means his hair or his overall behavior. Slipping out of his lap, you pull Zenos to his feet. You lead him back to the royal chambers where you show him his reflection in the vanity mirror.

He leans down to look at himself. He starts, taking a step back in surprise. Ever so cautiously, he looks at his reflection once again. Zenos tilts his head one way and then the other before slipping the braid over his shoulder to better see the flowers there. 

You beam up at him when he glances down at you. He cocks his head in a silent question, eyes darting to his reflection and then back to you. You step close to him, sliding your hand over his hip and up the middle of his back. The continued confusion on his face pulls your lips into a smirk. When you ask him what he thinks, he locks eyes with you through the mirror.

“I.. am not sure,” he confesses. “I do not see the purpose of such a decoration, but you seem to enjoy it.”

You offer to remove the flowers, but Zenos shakes his head.

“Only if you wish. They may stay as long as you like since they please you.”

You smile at the response.

Since the healer declared him fully recovered, you decide to take him with you as you catch up on what has happened over the past few days. The blossoms garnered quite a few looks from everyone else when they saw Zenos, but no comments were made. Around lunch, you even thought you spied a hint of amusement deep in the prince’s eyes when Alphinaud stared too long at the flowers.

That night, you return to the royal bedchambers to find the door to the bath slightly ajar. The Garlean is relaxing against the edge of the sunken bath with his eyes closed; his braid trails on the floor behind his head. 

You creep over, careful not to make any noise this time. You crouch beside the braid and begin slipping the flowers out. After every few, you glance at Zenos to find him in the same position as when you first entered. Deciding he must have dozed off, you continue and even reach over to remove the ones from his head. 

Once you have a small pile of pink and white flowers, you gather them in your arms and sneak back out of the bath. 

“My friend,” Zenos calls in a quiet tone, stopping you in place. “Could you please leave me one of each color?”

You stiffly turn on your heel to find Zenos holding his hand up out of the bathwater. You question how long he knew you were there. His lips twitch into a smirk, but his eyes remain closed.

“Since you first entered the bedroom.”

You scowl, but pick out two flowers to place in his dripping hand. He thanks you before setting them on the bath border.

You take the flowers in search of a small vase to put them in. By the time you return with everything, you find Zenos standing beside the bed with the two flowers and a piece of parchment. The Garlean is wearing a loosely tied silk robe and has rebraided his hair in a simpler plait. 

Stopping just outside the partially open door, you watch Zenos delicately arrange the flowers on half the parchment before folding the rest over them. The parchment then goes into one of his old books, which he firmly presses shut. Having not yet noticed you, Zenos carries the book over to the vanity where another, larger book sits. He sets the small book on the surface before placing the heavier tome on top. 

The sight stirs something soft inside you. Zenos turns, locking eyes with you through the gap in the door. His pale blue gaze darts away as he suddenly takes interest in strolling over to the tall windows lining the bedroom. 

You set the vase of flowers beside his stack of books and join him at the windows. They stretch from floor to ceiling and are large enough to allow access to the balcony outside if you open the shutters and step through. 

Taking his broad hand, you open the shutters with the other and pull him out into the moonlit balcony. The cool night breeze plays with his light robe while the light tints him in silvery hues. He leans his hip against the railing, half-lidded eyes sweeping over the palace grounds below.

You steal his attention by turning him around and leaning into him, wrapping your arms around his waist. Zenos softly smiles down at you. His arms come to rest around you as the two of you listen to the wind.


End file.
